Story Wayne's New Beginning
- Thread starter Zoomer
- Start date
Chapter 14
Wayne went out to the garage and started looking over all of the tools in the main bay. He also noticed the keys in Maggie’s Jeep, so he checked the oil and then started it up to see how it ran. No surprise, it worked perfectly. Maggie always took good care of her Jeep.
At 10 am the cable and internet guy stopped by and set up the system in the house. He had to run a line from the pole to the house. Wayne was fortunate that service had been extended out Palmer Chapel Road the previous year.
After lunch, Wayne went through the garage, refamiliarizing himself with Mike’s, no, his tools and supplies.
Later that day, Coonrod pulled up to Connie’s apartment building. Her Jeep sat in the parking lot. Dusk had started to settle, and the first night insects hummed from the ditch grass and the shadowed trees. He climbed out of the cruiser too fast, slammed the door hard enough to rattle the mirror, and went straight to her apartment.
He knocked once. Waited. Knocked again, harder. When no one answered, he flattened his palm against the door and began pounding. “Connie!” His voice carried across the walkway, sharp and wrong. “Open up. We need to talk.” A neighbor cracked his door and asked what was going on. Coonrod turned on him with a glare. “Police business. Get back inside.”
At the top of the stairs, Connie froze with a laundry basket braced against her hip. The sound of his fist against her door went through her like a blow. For one sick second, she could not make herself move. Then Coonrod hit the door again, and instinct took over.
She set the basket down as quietly as she could and slipped back down the stairs, one hand gripping the railing because her knees had gone loose. She did not know what had snapped in Coonrod, but she knew enough not to let him find her trapped between a locked door and a second-floor walkway.
Out of the corner of his eye, Coonrod saw movement below. Connie. Running for her Jeep.
“Connie!” he shouted from the upper walkway, rage cracking through her name. “Stop right there. I said we need to talk.”
“Leave me alone, Coonrod!” She threw herself into the Jeep, fumbled the keys once, and nearly sobbed when the engine caught. Gravel spat from the tires as she tore out of the lot, leaving him pounding down the stairs behind her.
Connie called Wayne with shaking hands, the phone pressed so hard to her ear it hurt. “Wayne?” Her voice broke on his name. “I’m scared. Coonrod was at my apartment door, yelling and beating on it. I don’t know what he wants, but he’s not right. Can I come to you?”
“Yes,” Wayne said, already moving. “The gate will be open. Pull straight into the garage and don’t stop for anything.”
Wayne hit the gate control, grabbed his pistol from the table, and opened the garage door. He did not know what had happened, but Connie’s voice had stripped all the softness from the evening. Several minutes later, her headlights swept across the drive. She came in too fast, tires chirping on the concrete as she shot into the garage. Wayne closed the gate first, then the garage door. Walking close by Connie and ushering her into the house.
“Connie, what happened?”
She stood beside the kitchen table with both hands pressed to the wooden surface, breathing too fast, her face pale beneath the kitchen light. “I don’t know,” she said. “I was doing laundry. He was at my door, pounding like he was trying to break it down, yelling that we needed to talk. Wayne, I’ve never liked him, but this was different. He looked... unhinged.”
They walked into the front room, leaving the lights off.
Minutes later, Coonrod’s cruiser rolled past the front gate, slow as a predator testing a fence, then stopped at the gate.
“Mr. Dupre?” Coonrod said through the speaker, holding the call button down too long. Static hissed under his voice “Can I help you officer?”
“Yes, I need access to your property. I am in pursuit of a suspect.”
“I am sorry officer, you will need a warrant first.”
“Listen you f****** moron. I am an officer of the law! Open the gate or I’ll arrest you for impeding an investigation!!”
“Sorry Coonrod, that is not happening.” And he released the button on the panel.
Connie was shaking with anger, “I am sorry to bring you trouble Wayne. I think I need to call the sheriff.”
“Don't worry about trouble, that is not an issue. But you should call the sheriff.”
Connie called the sheriff’s office and was transferred at once. “Sheriff Maybre, I got a problem with Coonrod.”
“What the hell. What is going on?”
Connie was starting to calm down, “I don't know. I was walking up the steps with my laundry and saw him beating on my door really hard and yelling ‘we need to talk’, so I ran for my car and got out of there.
“Connie, “I hate to ask, but have you and him...”
“No, Never! I cannot stand him.”
The sheriff continued, “Where are you now?”
“I am over at Wayne Dupre's house. The gate is locked and my car is in his garage. Coonrod is at the gate screaming and threatening Wayne.”
“Oh hell, I can see this is going to be a royal pain in the ass. Can you stay there?”
Wayne spoke up, “Yes she can sheriff, as long as it takes.”
The sheriff sighed, “I asked you if you were going to be a problem and here you are.”
“No sir, the problem is Coonrod, not me.”
“Ok, both of you stay there while I try to stop that fool. Oh, are you armed Mr. Dupre?”
“Yes, I am and thanks to my military and USPSA training, I am very proficient with my weapons.”
“Damn, ok, try not to kill him, ok. I’ll call you all back.”
The sheriff contacted his dispatch officer. “Is there anything going on this evening?”
“No sir, it has been real quiet.”
“Good, look, it seems that Coonrod has gone off reservation on us. I want you to call in all the officers on their cell phones to the office. Do not tell them anything, I’ll be there directly. Do not tell Coonrod anything. If he calls for anything concerning Wayne Dupre or Connie Bradshaw do not respond to or send any information to any other officers about it. Do you understand?”
The dispatcher responded, “Yes, sir, but what is going on? That is really strange.”
“Just hold down the fort till I get there. I am on my way.”
It only took a few minutes for the sheriff to get there. He beat most of the officers. As he entered the squad room, the Dispatcher was staring at him.
The radio interrupted with Coonrod calling in. “Dispatch, officer needs assistance. Connie Bradshaw just sideswiped a car and took off. I have chased her down. I think she went to Dupre's house, that new guy.”
The Dispatcher looked at the sheriff. “Tell him to hold there, assistance is on the way.”
As she completed the call to Coonrad, the other officers entered the squad room.
The sheriff spoke up, “Officers, something has gone wrong with Coonrod. Earlier he was chasing Connie Bradshaw yelling that he wanted to talk. She called me a while ago. She wants nothing to do with him, and it sounded like he was very angry. She has gone to Wayne Dupre's house for safety.
We are going to Dupre's to de-escalate whatever is going on. Ms. Bradshaw is not in trouble, neither is Mr. Dupre. There is no warrant to go to the property and Coonrod is making this all up. I suspect we will have to arrest Coonrod.
Let’s go, everyone. Remember, the only trouble we have is Coonrod.”
Three cars and six officers pulled up at the gate.
The sheriff was the first one to Coonrod’s vehicle. “Coonrod, what is going on?”
Coonrod was angry and said “I think Connie Bradshaw is in there with Wayne Dupre. I was trying to arrest her for hit and run.”
“Really, well Coonrod, she called me earlier. She is very afraid of you and said you chased her from her apartment. She wants you to leave her alone.”
“She is a criminal! And so is Dupre! I am going to...”
The sheriff interrupted him, “Do nothing, is what you are going to do. I hate to do this, but I need your badge and your sidearm. One of the officers will drop you off at home. You will not need the vehicle.
Coonrod yelled at the sheriff, “You can't do that!”
Officers surrounded the car, “Coonrod, you're fired. Don't leave town. The DA may want to talk to you.”
“You will all pay for this!” Coonrad yelled as one of the officers escorted him to another vehicle.
The sheriff waited until the other squads left the scene and pressed the call button, “Mr. Dupre, may I come in?”
Yes sir, sheriff,” said Wayne, as he opened the gate.
He walked across the yard and entered the front porch, “Hi Connie, are you ok?”
“Yes, I am now. Thank you for coming so quick.”
“If you hadn't,” said Wayne, “he would have gotten himself shot if he had come onto the property.”
“I am glad we avoided that Mr. Dupre. It is not over though. Coonrod has family and they will pitch a stink about this. I think he has slipped a little in his mind. You might have to keep an eye out. I can't really do much unless he does something first.”
“I intend to,” Wayne said.
“So will I,” Connie said, and this time her voice did not shake.
“Come into the office tomorrow,” Lonnie said. “I’ll need statements from both of you.”
“We’ll be there,” Wayne said.
The sheriff left and suddenly it was quiet.
Connie drew a long, shuddering breath and covered her face with both hands. When she lowered them, her eyes shone. “Wayne, I was terrified. I saw him at my door, and for a second I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. All I knew was that if he got a hold of me, no one would hear anything until it was too late.”
Wayne stepped closer but stopped short of touching her, giving her the choice. “You got yourself out,” he said. “You stayed smart when fear was trying to take over. That matters.”
She looked up at him then, and the last of her composure cracked. “Thank you for being here. I have a gun, but I’ve never pointed it at anyone. I don’t know if I could.”
“Then we’ll make sure you never have to find out alone,” Wayne said. “If you want practice, I’ll help. No pressure. No judgment.” He hesitated, careful with the next words. “And please don’t take this wrong, Connie, but I have extra bedrooms. If you don’t want to go home tonight, you don’t have to.”
For a moment, Connie looked ready to refuse out of habit. Then her shoulders sagged. “I don’t want to go home,” she admitted. “Not tonight. I’d lie there listening for footsteps and jump at every car door in the lot.” She gave him a tired, grateful smile. “Thank you, Wayne. I accept.”
“I’ll get sheets and blankets,” he said. “The room at the end of the hall is clean and has its own bathroom.”
“Do you mind if I go straight to bed? I’m exhausted.”
“Not at all. I’ll be down the hall, just in case.”
Connie paused at the hall, one hand on the doorframe. “Good night, Wayne. And thank you. For all of it.”
Chapter 15
They both slept through the night, though neither of them slept deeply. Rover seemed curious about Wayne’s new houseguest and divided her loyalty between them, padding from one bedroom door to the other and finally settling on the hallway floor where she could keep watch over both.
Wayne got up early, as usual, and pushed through his morning workout, but he skipped the run he normally took near the property. Until Coonrod was found, the open road did not feel as harmless as it had a week ago. He had just started breakfast when Connie wandered into the kitchen, barefoot and quiet, with the unsettled look of someone waking in a place that felt safe only after she remembered why she was there.
“So you cook too, Wayne?” she asked, trying for lightness and not quite reaching it.
“It’s either that or starve.” He glanced back at her and softened his voice. “How did you sleep?”
Connie wrapped her arms around herself. “I slept,” she said. “But when I woke up, I didn’t know where I was. For a second, I thought I was back at my apartment and he was still outside the door.” Her mouth tightened. “That scared me worse than I want to admit.”
Wayne turned the burner down and faced her fully. “You don’t have to downplay it here. What happened was frightening, Connie. You got out, and you’re safe now.” He let that settle before offering a small smile. “I’m still getting used to this place myself. I’m sleeping in the same room I used as a boy, which feels stranger than I expected.” He nodded toward the stove. “I hope you’re hungry. The bacon’s done. How do you like your eggs?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
“Over easy it is.” Wayne set a cup of coffee on the table and pulled out a chair for her.
After Connie took her seat and tasted the eggs, some of the tension eased from her face. “This is delicious,” she said quietly. “Thank you, Wayne. For breakfast. For last night. For not making me feel foolish.”
“You weren’t foolish,” Wayne said. “You were scared, and you were right to be. After breakfast, I thought we’d head into town and see the sheriff. He wants our statements while everything is still fresh.”
Connie nodded, but her fingers tightened around the coffee mug. “Might as well get it over with. At noon, I pick up a load for Wichita Falls.”
“That’s a decent haul. How long will you be gone?”
“Just a couple of days. I’ll drop the load, get a room, and come home tomorrow.” She hesitated, then looked at him over the rim of her cup. “I won’t pretend I’m thrilled about leaving with Coonrod out there.”
Wayne held her gaze. “When you get back, will I see you?” He looked down at his coffee, then back up, deciding honesty was better than caution. “I’d like to take you on a real date.”
A faint, genuine smile warmed Connie’s face. “Well, sir, I like that idea.” Her voice softened. “Keep my number handy. And Wayne? Thank you again. I’d better go home, change clothes, and freshen up before we meet at the sheriff’s office.”
Wayne watched her drive away, waited until the gate closed behind her, and only then let himself smile. The smile faded when he remembered Coonrod was still unaccounted for. He grabbed his keys and headed for his truck.
Twenty minutes later, Wayne and Connie pulled into the sheriff’s office lot at the same time. Wayne opened the door for her as they went inside. “Good morning, Sheriff,” he said. “You wanted us to come in this morning.”
“Yes, I did, and thank you for coming early,” Lonnie said. He slid two forms across the desk. “Fill these out and write down exactly what you saw and experienced last night. Each of you, separately. Don’t leave anything out.”
Connie looked toward the hallway, then back at Lonnie. “Is Coonrod here?”
Lonnie’s expression tightened. “No. We don’t know where he is. He disappeared last night after we took his badge and weapon. Until we locate him, both of you stay careful.”
Wayne exhaled through his nose. “Damn. I moved here for peace and quiet.”
Connie flinched at the edge in his voice. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Wayne.”
Wayne turned to her at once. “You didn’t drag me anywhere. Coonrod did this.” His voice lowered, gentler but no less firm. “You ran because you were afraid, and you had reason. Don’t carry his blame for him.”
Wayne looked back at the sheriff. “Lonnie, what kind of vehicle does Coonrod drive when he isn’t in uniform?”
“If it still runs, he has a beat-up orange Dodge pickup,” Lonnie said.
“Orange?” Wayne asked.
“Yeah. Bought it at auction from a utility company. Bragged about the good deal he got until it started breaking down.”
“We’ll keep an eye out for it. Thanks, Sheriff.”
Lonnie pointed a warning finger at both of them. “Don’t start anything, either of you. If you see him, you call us and keep your distance.”
Outside, beside their vehicles, Wayne asked, “What are you thinking, Connie?”
She looked toward the street, then back at him. The fear was still there, tucked behind resolve. “I’m going to make my trip,” she said. “Then I’m coming out to your place for that pistol training. I don’t want to freeze like that again, Wayne. I don’t want to feel helpless.”
Wayne nodded, understanding the cost of the admission. “Then we’ll train. Slow and safe, no pressure. And for what it’s worth, I won’t complain about getting to spend more time with you.”
That brought a small smile back to Connie’s face, though it did not quite reach her eyes. She watched him walk to his truck, then drove to her apartment, moving quickly but carefully. She kept checking the mirrors all the way there. At home, she grabbed her go bag, changed clothes, and headed for the transfer warehouse to load up and haul out, with Coonrod’s missing orange truck waiting in the back of her mind like a threat she could not yet see.
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks!
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
I'm sure the Message was sent but was it received and understood?
sssarawolf
We're just plugging along.
Thank you fr the 2 chapters.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
As I've previously posted, old school still hunter here; patience is my middle name.
Last edited:
Chapter 16
Wayne went home determined to get some work done, though his mind kept circling back to everything Leonard had placed in his hands. He spread the paperwork across the table, then opened the plat book and topographic map, tracing property lines with a fingertip until the shape of the land began to make sense. The trails he had found the other day were not trespassing through someone else’s woods, though one headed upstream towards the neighbor. The rest were his. All of them. On the topo map, he found the small symbol for the old family cemetery. It had been years since he had climbed up to that far back into the property, but the moment he saw it, he knew. That was where he wanted to spread Maggie’s ashes. Someday soon, he would bring Sheila and Jay there too, not as an obligation, but as a final remembrance of his beloved aunt. He continued through the papers and found information on the river homes he now owned, along with two properties in Pineville. He would need to get out and look them over himself. Names on paper were one thing. Land, houses, and history were another.
Next, he looked up solar equipment distributors and found one in Alexandria. He spoke with a representative and scheduled a site assessment for the farm in three days.
As he was finishing up, the gate buzzed and a voice crackled through the speaker. “Delivery for Mr. Dupre.” Wayne walked to the front door, saw the furniture truck, and buzzed them in. A short time later, the mattress and box spring had been replaced, and the deliverymen were gone. He made the bed slowly, letting the strange finality of it settle over him. The room with the attached bath and the only shower in the house was no longer Maggie and Mike’s room. It was his. He looked into the bathroom and saw that the familiar clutter had already been cleared away. The closets were empty too, stripped of any ordinary proof that his aunt and uncle had once lived there. Rover padded in while Wayne went to his boyhood room and transferred his meager collection of clothes and bathroom supplies. “Well, Rover,” he said, forcing lightness into his voice, “that’s one more thing off my to-do list.” She answered with a slow wag of her tail, as if she understood more than she intended to admit.
As he stepped out of the master bedroom, Wayne paused. Something about the wall behind the closets, next to the bathroom, was wrong. Not obvious. Not accidental. Just wrong. Too long. Too clean. Too deliberate. “That’s a long stretch of wall,” he murmured. He stuck his head into the bathroom and studied the layout again. Nearly three feet had vanished somewhere behind the hallway wall. He ran his hands along the surface, searching for seams, latches, any flaw that might betray a hidden opening, but the wall gave him nothing. Then his gaze settled on the small picture of Maggie and Mike hanging nearby. He tried to lift it from the hook. It would not move. His pulse quickened. “All right,” he whispered. “What are you hiding?” He twisted the frame. A section of wall snapped outward with a soft, startling pop. Wayne froze. Listened. The house held its breath. He slid the panel to the left, revealing a long, narrow storage room that seemed to have been waiting for him. He found a light switch and stepped inside. At the far end stood a large safe. Along one wall rested a twelve-gauge pump shotgun, an M1 Garand rifle, and a Colt 1911 pistol. The rifle and pistol almost certainly had belonged to Uncle Mike, perhaps from his service in the Korean War. Wayne moved farther in, drawn toward the safe. It had a large combination lock, and he had no idea where to begin looking for the numbers. Then he saw the envelope lying on top, his name written across it in Maggie’s hand.
He opened the envelope carefully and found a handwritten note from Aunt Maggie.
Wayne,
I am pleased you have found this note. You are beginning to learn what made this home so special to generations of Mike’s family. Mike and I preserved the original improvements and turned the shelter into a place where a small group could survive for several months, if necessary. Please know that, at one time, it was heavily stocked and ready for almost any emergency. In the last couple of years, I began removing the dated supplies. I hope you will pick up where I left off and begin restocking it for your own safety and for the safety of anyone you may one day bring into this home.
There are more secrets to discover, Wayne. Some are Mike’s and some are mine. I have full confidence that you will find them all in due course as you make this place your own. I’ll make this one a little easier and give you the combination I am sure you are wondering about: 35-15-3.
Love,
Maggie
Wayne noticed a few other things on top of the safe, but Maggie had known him too well. The safe came first. He dialed the numbers slowly, letting each turn settle before moving to the next. Click. Thirty-five. Click. Fifteen. Click. Three. The door opened without a groan or protest. Inside, several rifles stood along one side. Ammo cans lined the bottom, along with six pistol cases. On the top shelf were plastic sleeves filled with coins. He pulled out a few and saw gold and silver pieces, all post-1900 and in several different sizes. He would need a professional value on these, along with the coins from the safety deposit box. Wayne went quickly to his childhood bedroom, retrieved the other 1911 and the coins from his duffel bag, and placed them in the safe with the new discoveries. Then he took a closer look at the rifles. There was the Ruger 77/22 that Uncle Mike had taught him to use when he was thirteen, two wood-stocked Ruger 10/22s with scopes, another twelve-gauge pump shotgun, two Winchester Model 70 bolt-action rifles in .308, and two Mini-14s. The pistol cases held Beretta M9s and Ruger Mark II .22s. The sight of the Rugers brought back his first pistol lessons with Uncle Mike when he was fourteen. The bluff behind the barn had made a perfect backdrop for a firing range. Mike had taught him the basics there, skills that later carried Wayne into advanced training and eventually USPSA competition.
Rover lay on the floor just outside the hidden room and sat up when Wayne spoke. “Uncle Mike took security seriously, didn’t he, girl?” His attempt at humor sounded thin in the narrow room. The last item on the top shelf of the safe was an ornately carved wooden box. Wayne set it on top of the safe and lifted the lid. His breath caught. Inside were several pieces of fine jewelry set with vivid gemstones. In a smaller box, he found a diamond ring with a central emerald-cut stone surrounded by smaller stones. The piece looked too intimate to be merely valuable. “Who were you saving this for?” he said softly. The question seemed to disappear into the walls. He closed the ring box and placed the carved box back in the safe. Then he turned to the other items on top. A photo album waited there. He opened it and found pictures from his childhood, many of them taken by someone he could not identify. Most showed him with either Mike or Maggie, though rarely all three together. There were candid shots of him and Mike working around the yard or in Mike’s shop, a few photographs of Maggie with his mother, and one of his mother holding him when he was newborn. Another section showed Wayne playing sports in middle school and high school. A second album held older images, including faded sepia photographs of Mike’s grandfather, father, and mother. Finally, Wayne found an accounting journal listing the business enterprises that had remained after Mike died. It contained annual reports for each business segment and made clear just how much he had inherited. It also made it easier to understand why Mike’s relatives were furious about receiving practically nothing from the estate. Wayne closed the journal with more questions than answers. He needed to understand what had happened between Mike and his family, and why Maggie had left him clues instead of explanations.
Rover watched him, then began prancing in place. Wayne took the hint. She was hungry, and maybe he needed a reason to step away before the hidden room swallowed the rest of the afternoon. He closed the concealed door, making sure the panel settled back into place.
Wayne went downstairs to the kitchen and made a quick lunch, though he barely tasted it. The house had shifted around him. Rooms he thought he knew now had false backs, hidden doors, and questions tucked behind the walls. He remembered the locked attic door and the ladder in the tunnel below. Afterward, needing answers more than rest, he grabbed the gear he had bought at Harbor Freight and headed for the tunnel. At the bottom of the long staircase, he studied the circuit breaker panel more closely. It was a 100-amp service, which made him wonder where the power was coming from. He turned on the light circuits and the breakers that appeared to serve room outlets. One remained, labeled AIR. Wayne threw the switch. Somewhere in the darkness, a fan stirred to life, and a faint current of air brushed past him up the stairwell. “Interesting,” he said under his breath. “Positive pressure. You weren’t just hiding down here, were you, Mike?” He left the air handler running and approached the first tunnel door. After putting on his headlamp and turning on his flashlight, he moved forward, scanning the floor, walls, and ceiling. The tunnel had been hand dug, with solid-looking timber supports overhead. It was clear that Mike had inspected the shoring over the years and replaced bad boards when necessary. The passage sloped gradually downhill. Wayne followed it until his lights fell across the edge of a dark pit. He stopped short. Gravel shifted beneath one boot and rattled into the blackness. He waited until the last small sound died away. When he cast the beams downward, he saw steps cut into the side, leading to another tunnel below. A thin breeze pushed toward the far end. He descended and continued until he reached a niche where an artesian well bubbled out of the earth. From there, a narrow stream ran along the side of the tunnel toward a closed wood-and-iron door. Wayne peered through a crack and saw a faint light somewhere beyond it. To get his bearings, he closed his eyes and turned slowly in a circle, stopping when he faced the door again. “Northwest of the house,” he thought. “Close to the Oxbow.” He tried the handle, but the door was locked. “Of course it is,” he muttered. “Start carrying the keys, Wayne.” With that decision made, he worked his way back to the main chamber.
He opened the door to the other tunnel. This passage remained level and ran in the opposite direction. After about fifty feet, it split. One branch led to a set of stairs; the other disappeared into darkness. Wayne stood between them, listening. The darker branch offered nothing but silence. The stairs at least promised an answer. He chose the stairs. Thirty steps later, he reached a door at the top and let out a breath when it opened easily. He found himself in the garage, inside the locked third bay. He did not remember ever being in this room. A workbench stood against one wall. Several machines sat beneath tarps. Closed cabinets lined the space like silent witnesses. He opened some of them and found gunsmithing tools, supplies, and more cases of ammunition for rifles, shotguns, and pistols. “Well,” he murmured, “this explains a few things and raises about a dozen more.” He closed the cabinets and tried the other door, the one he believed led to the rest of the garage. Relief washed through him when it opened. Now he understood why it had been locked from the other side. The heavy door had been meant to keep people out of Mike’s special projects room. The doorway up the stairs remained locked and would have to stay a mystery for another day. Wayne relocked the door and headed back down into the tunnel.
At the bottom, he continued for about fifty yards and found another set of stairs. By then, he had a good idea of where he was. He climbed and reached a platform just three feet below a trapdoor. When he pushed up carefully, the door opened only a few inches before striking the tractor beneath the tarp in the barn. Wayne eased it closed and returned to the bottom of the stairs. As he stepped on the second-to-last step, it rocked slightly. He paused. Shifted his foot and rocked the step again. He aimed both flashlights at the step and pulled. The board shifted but would not come free. He tried again, lifting straight up before drawing it toward himself. This time, the board came loose. Behind it, tucked into the darkness, were three wooden chests.
Just as he reached for the first chest, his phone buzzed. Wayne flinched, then laughed once under his breath at himself. It was a text from Connie: Made it to the hotel. For a moment, the tunnel, the chests, and all of Maggie’s secrets faded behind the simple relief of those five words. He stood there in the dimness with one hand on the hidden stair and felt the distance between them more sharply than he expected. He typed, erased, and tried again. Glad you’re safe. Wish I could hear your voice right now. Sleep tight, Connie. His thumb hovered over Send. Too much? Not enough? Finally, he sent it before he could talk himself out of it. Her reply came back a minute later: I wish that too. Call me tomorrow? Wayne smiled despite the dust and darkness around him. First thing, he answered. Then, after a pause, he added, There’s a lot I want to tell you. Her answer was brief but warm: Then I’ll look forward to hearing your voice. For a few seconds, the tunnel felt less like a secret buried beneath the farm and more like a place he might survive.
Wayne reached in, pulled the first chest forward, and lifted it onto the bottom step. It weighed about forty pounds. There was no lock, which somehow made it feel more ominous, as if whoever had hidden it believed the house itself was protection enough. He opened the lid. Inside lay very old papers. He lifted the first piece carefully and saw that it was a newspaper from Alexandria dated May 8, 1865. The headline read, War of Northern Aggression Over! Wayne stared at it for a long moment. History had always felt distant in books. Here, beneath his boots, it had been folded, hidden, and kept waiting. He set the newspaper aside with reverence. Beneath it, the rest of the chest was filled with loose gold coins. He picked up a few and slipped them into his pocket, their weight startlingly real.
He checked the other two chests. One was full of silver coins. The other held more gold. The discovery should have thrilled him, but unease crawled along the back of his neck. This was not just money. It was a secret preserved through generations, hidden beneath a stair in a tunnel most people did not know existed. Whoever had buried it had expected danger. Whoever had kept it hidden had believed that danger might come again.
Wayne took a few samples from each chest, closed them, and carefully rebuilt the stair. Then he headed back toward the house to take Rover for a walk and make dinner, carrying with him the coins, Maggie’s note, and the growing certainty that the farm was much more than an inheritance.
Later, in the library, Wayne started his computer and searched for a numismatist. He found one in Alexandria, but caution tugged at him. An out-of-town expert seemed wiser. After more searching, he found Lafayette Gold Xchange. Maybe he could convince Connie to take a little road trip. The thought of asking her brought back the warmth of her last message, but the smile faded as he looked toward the dark hallway. The house was quiet again. Too quiet. Every answer he had found today had uncovered another door, and Wayne was beginning to understand that some doors were built to keep things in.
Chapter 17
Connie enjoyed driving her old tractor. It had been her father’s rig before the tornado took her parents, and she had spent more money than she probably should have restoring it. Some days, when the engine settled into that familiar growl, she could almost feel him riding beside her. After her parents died, Connie had been forced to grow up all at once. She was twenty, with two younger siblings to protect, and there had been plenty of people who thought she was too young to take responsibility for Rachel, who was twelve, and Connor, who was fourteen. With Aunt Sheila and Uncle Jay standing behind her, Connie convinced the judge that her brother and sister were old enough to have a voice in where they lived. More than that, she had already been helping raise them for years. Then she went to the company where her father had worked and made a pitch that frightened her almost as much as it strengthened her: she wanted to take over his place. The owner listened, saw something in her she was still learning to see in herself, and agreed to sponsor her through CDL school. When she finished, he hired her in her father’s place.
Over time, Connie found encouragement from a growing network of women drivers in Louisiana and developed a few friendships that steadied her when the road felt too long. Her first solo route carried her across the state, delivering agricultural goods from rural farms to processing plants. She learned to handle sudden thunderstorms, suffocating summer heat, bad roads, tight loading docks, and the loneliness that settled in after midnight. Sometimes she hauled goods for local festivals and community events, and those runs gave her a quiet sense of pride. She liked knowing she was helping keep the traditions of her hometown moving. Eventually, Connie became an independent owner-operator, managing her own routes and business. Driving gave her independence, income, and a measure of control. She cherished the sunrise over the bayou, the music that kept her company on long drives, and the stories she could bring home to Rachel and Connor.
The run to Wichita Falls had gone smoothly. By the time she reached the hotel, she was tired but steady, the kind of road-worn tired she knew how to carry. While gathering her overnight bag, she saw the pistol tucked where she had left it. Most companies forbade firearms in trucks, but Connie was an independent contractor, and lately she had stopped trusting distance to keep her safe. Coonrod had become too bold, too certain she would eventually give in to being cornered. She reached over, took the pistol and holster, and carried them into the room.
After a shower and a quick bite to eat, she texted Wayne to let him know she had made it to Wichita Falls. His reply came back almost immediately, simple and careful: Glad you’re safe. Sleep well, Connie. She looked at the words longer than she meant to. There was nothing pushy in them, nothing demanding. Just concern. For the first time all day, her shoulders loosened. She set the phone beside the bed and went straight to sleep.
The next morning, she was almost ready to leave for home when the desk clerk called.
“Ma’am,” the clerk said, her voice thin and frightened, “there’s a man at the desk demanding a key to your room. He says he’s your husband.”
Cold moved through Connie so fast she had to grip the edge of the dresser. “What? I’m not married. What does he look like?”
“Heavyset. Bald. Mustache and goatee. He says he’s a cop, and he’s very angry.”
Connie’s mouth went dry. Coonrod. He had followed her across state lines. “Listen to me carefully,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Give him my room number, but do not give him a key. Then call the police. Tell them he’s stalking me and that he is not a police officer.”
She dumped her bag onto the bed with shaking hands, found the handgun, and checked that it was loaded. The metal felt cold and brutally real in her palm.
Connie dragged the chair beside the bed where she could see the door and sat with both hands around the pistol. The lock was set. The chain was hooked. She had not left the room since the night before. Still, none of that felt like enough. The sirens came first, faint and far away, and she almost let herself breathe. Then someone began pounding on the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
“Connie!” Coonrod shouted from the hallway. “Open this door. We need to talk.”
She did not answer. She raised the pistol until the sights hovered at chest height, aimed where he would be if the door came open. He kept yelling, his words slurring into threats and accusations, each blow against the door driving her pulse higher. Connie’s finger hovered near the trigger. If he broke through, she would have only seconds. The thought terrified her. The thought of not firing terrified her more. Before she could decide, new voices cut through the hallway noise.
“Put it down, sir!”
“I’m a policeman,” Coonrod snapped. “That woman in there needs to talk to me.”
“Sir, put the weapon down and step away from the door.”
Two shots cracked through the hallway.
Connie flinched so hard the pistol dipped in her hands. For a moment, there was only ringing in her ears and the sound of her own breathing. Then came a careful knock. “Ma’am, this is Officer Johnston with the Wichita Falls Police Department. Can you open the door? The man is down. He can’t hurt you now.”
A clear, practical part of her mind took over. Connie set the handgun on the bed, then moved toward the door on unsteady legs. “Is it safe?” Her voice broke. “Is he gone?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s safe.”
Connie unlocked the door and backed up.
“Are you all right?” the officer asked.
“No,” Connie said, then swallowed hard. “I mean, I’m not hurt. But he’s been stalking me down in Alexandria. What happened? Why did you shoot him?”
“He had a weapon and refused to put it down. When he pointed it at me, I fired twice.” Officer Johnston’s gaze moved past her shoulder. “Ma’am, is that your handgun on the bed?”
Connie glanced at the bed and then back at the officer. “Yes. If he got through that door, I was going to empty it.”
His expression softened, though his voice stayed professional. “I understand. I’m going to come in and secure the weapon for now. You stay right where you are, okay?”
“Yes, officer. It’s loaded.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
After securing the handgun, Officer Johnston led her out of the room and down to the lounge. Connie kept her eyes forward, but she still saw enough: officers in the hallway, the flash of emergency lights through the lobby windows, a covered shape near the wall where Coonrod had been standing. Her knees nearly gave out.
In the lounge, Connie explained who Coonrod was and what had been happening in Alexandria. She gave the officer Sheriff Maybre’s name in Rapides Parish, Louisiana, and told him Maybre could verify the history if they needed confirmation. Saying it aloud made her feel both steadier and smaller. She had not imagined the danger. She had not overreacted. Coonrod really had followed her.
“Thank you,” Officer Johnston said. “That will help a lot.”
Things moved quickly after that. Once Connie gave her statement and the officers contacted the local sheriff, she was free to go. Free did not feel like the right word. Not yet.
Officer Johnston walked her to her truck.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry this happened to you,” he said. “There are bad people out there, and some of them are good at pretending otherwise. I didn’t check your handgun in or make an issue of it. Take it back and be safe.”
Connie accepted it with both hands. “Thank you, Officer. I’m going home. I think I need some time off.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
Once she was on the road, Connie called Wayne. She meant to give him the short version, but the moment she heard his voice, the short version fell apart. He did not interrupt. He only listened, asking quiet questions when she lost the thread. By the time she told him she would see him in about eight hours, she felt less alone than she had all morning.
The drive home seemed endless. Every set of headlights in her mirrors made her chest tighten, even though she knew Coonrod was gone. By the time she pulled into the trucking yard, exhaustion had hollowed her out. Sheriff Maybre and Wayne were waiting for her. The sight of Wayne standing beside the Land Rover did something to her she was too tired to name. She climbed down from the truck, took two steps, and broke. Wayne caught her as she fell into his arms. “I was so scared,” she said, her words shaking loose between sobs. “He had a gun. He was right outside my door, Wayne. They shot him right there.”
Sheriff Maybre gave her a moment before speaking. “Connie, Coonrod didn’t make it. He won’t be a problem for you or Wayne anymore. He was unstable, and I’m sorry we didn’t know how dangerous he’d become before this. But what happened outside that room is out of your hands. The Wichita Falls police responded to a threat. You didn’t cause it, and you’re not responsible for it. You’re safe now.”
Wayne held her a little tighter, careful not to crowd her. “Come on, Connie. Let me get you home.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him. “No. Take me to your house, please. I don’t want to be alone right now.” Her voice dropped. “I just want to feel safe with someone I trust.”
Wayne searched her face, then nodded. “Do you want to leave your car here, or ride with me?”
“I’ll go with you. Now, please.”
Wayne thanked the sheriff, then helped Connie into the Land Rover for the ten-minute ride to his home. Rover sat between the front seats and leaned close enough for Connie to rest one hand in her head. Connie kept petting her the whole way, fingers moving in slow, repetitive strokes that gave her something to hold onto. Wayne did not fill the silence. He kept one hand on the wheel and the other loose near the console, close enough that she could reach for him if she needed to. When they got home, he pulled into the garage and grabbed Connie’s bag. In the kitchen, he set it gently near the door and asked, “Can I get you coffee, water, anything?”
“A stiff drink,” Connie said, trying for a smile and not quite managing it. “Then I think I just need to go to bed, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay. I’ve got some smooth bourbon, and your room is ready. They delivered the new mattress this morning, and I cleaned up in there earlier, just in case you needed it.”
The simple kindness nearly undid her. “You’re so sweet,” she said. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” She took a sip from the glass he poured, then another, and gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “I don’t really drink much. I think this may have been a bit ambitious. I’d better get to bed before I fall down.”
Wayne smiled, but there was worry in it. “That’s fine. You get comfortable. I’m going to lock up, read for a little while, and then turn in. If you need anything, Connie, anything at all, just call out.”
She paused in the doorway and looked back at him. For the first time since the hotel, her face softened. “I’ll. Thank you, Wayne. Good night.”
“Good night, Connie.”
Wayne stood in the kitchen for a while after she left, listening to the old house settle around them. Then he mixed a drink for himself and sat down with Leonard’s paperwork. He tried to read, but the words refused to hold still. His thoughts kept drifting to the woman upstairs, to the fear in her voice, to the way she had trusted him enough to come here instead of going home alone. That trust felt like a gift and a responsibility. After a few minutes, Wayne closed the folder, checked the doors one more time, and went upstairs to his own small bedroom.
feralferret
Veteran Member
Thank you.
WanderLore
Veteran Member
Hooked!
steamroller
Contributing Member
Very good addition to the story !!
sssarawolf
We're just plugging along.
Great chapters, thank you.
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks for the 2 chapters!
Siskiyoumom
Veteran Member
Thank you so very much!
I am enjoying this. Thank You.
AUTHOR'S* UPDATE
*Author sounds so pretentious
On July 3, 2026, I made my first post. If you recall—or if you go back and read that first post—I explained that I had found a story called "WAYNE" on another site, I think in 2023, where the author said he was not going to do anything with the story idea. I asked whether anyone knew who might have written it, but I only received a few "I think I remember that story" comments. So I want to thank "anonymous" again for the original inspiration.
When I pasted that post into Word, it was about 30 pages. At this point in the story, we are at 90 pages, and I have finally reached the end of the original plot points. The rest of this story builds on that original inspiration and continues to lead me on this excellent adventure. I almost wanted to call it Wayne's Excellent Misadventure, but Wayne's New Beginning seems like a better fit. As of this week, I have completed Part 1 of Wayne's story, ending at 80 chapters and more than 300 pages. I have enjoyed reading the replies that some of you have posted. I must admit, it is a bit of an ego-stroking exercise to check the page to see whether anyone has said something about the story, so please continue posting.
So, let's continue the adventure and see what happens to Wayne, Connie, and their growing "Friends and Family" group...
*Author sounds so pretentious
On July 3, 2026, I made my first post. If you recall—or if you go back and read that first post—I explained that I had found a story called "WAYNE" on another site, I think in 2023, where the author said he was not going to do anything with the story idea. I asked whether anyone knew who might have written it, but I only received a few "I think I remember that story" comments. So I want to thank "anonymous" again for the original inspiration.
When I pasted that post into Word, it was about 30 pages. At this point in the story, we are at 90 pages, and I have finally reached the end of the original plot points. The rest of this story builds on that original inspiration and continues to lead me on this excellent adventure. I almost wanted to call it Wayne's Excellent Misadventure, but Wayne's New Beginning seems like a better fit. As of this week, I have completed Part 1 of Wayne's story, ending at 80 chapters and more than 300 pages. I have enjoyed reading the replies that some of you have posted. I must admit, it is a bit of an ego-stroking exercise to check the page to see whether anyone has said something about the story, so please continue posting.
So, let's continue the adventure and see what happens to Wayne, Connie, and their growing "Friends and Family" group...
Chapter 18
When Connie woke the next morning, the first thing she noticed was the smell of bacon and coffee drifting down the hall. Wayne, she thought, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling, was something else. Not flashy. Not pushy. Just steady in a way she had almost forgotten people could be. She dressed quickly and followed the smell into the kitchen.
“Morning, bright eyes,” Wayne said, glancing up from the stove.
“Good morning, Wayne.” Connie leaned in the doorway, trying not to smile too wide. “Are you trying to spoil me? And was that a new bed?”
“Why not spoil you a little?” he said. “And yes, they delivered it yesterday. After the last few days you’ve had, you deserve a soft place to land.”
“That coffee smells really good right now.”
“Cups are on your left,” Wayne said. “Help yourself.”
After a quick breakfast, they carried their coffee to the porch and sat with Rover stretched contentedly between them.
“I really need to get back home this morning,” Connie said. “I’ve got housework waiting and a lot of thinking to do. These last few days have been a nightmare.”
Wayne reached into his pocket and held out a set of keys. “I’m here if you ever need me, Connie. These are for the gate and the house. If I’m not here and you need somewhere safe, or if you just want to come by, use them.”
She stared at the keys in his palm. “Wayne, are you sure?”
“I trust you,” he said. “And I want to see more of you. So yes, I’m sure.”
Connie took the keys carefully, as if they weighed more than metal. Then she leaned close and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. A moment later, she was gone.
Wayne stood on the porch until her car disappeared down the drive. Then he looked down at Rover. “Come on, girl. Let’s go see Jay and Sheila.”
After locking up, Wayne and Rover drove off.
“Wayne, cher, look at you.” Sheila pulled him into a hug before he made it two steps inside. “You all right, baby?”
“I’m fine,” Wayne said, returning the hug. “Though the last week has been a rough one.”
“We heard about it,” Jay said, shaking his head. “Lord, what a terrible time for that girl.”
“Connie and I are good,” Wayne said. “She went back home this morning.”
Sheila’s eyes brightened. “Back home, huh? So she’s been stayin’ at your place?”
“Uh, not like that,” Wayne said quickly. “It wasn’t safe for her, and after what happened...”
Jay chuckled. “Leave him be, Sheila. You’re pickin’ at him.”
Sheila smiled wide, not the least bit sorry. “He’s right, Wayne. I was only pickin’ a little. Connie’s a real sweetheart, sha. That girl’s had to face too much for somebody so young. If you two are findin’ your way toward each other, I don’t think either one of you could’ve done better.”
“Finding our way?” Wayne said, then let a wicked grin spread across his face. “No, ma’am. We’re just shacking up.”
Jay burst out laughing at Sheila’s expression. “Well, now. Ain’t nobody zinged you that good since Margrethe. Boy takes after her, sure enough.”
The grin on Wayne’s face told Sheila exactly what had happened.
“Men,” Sheila muttered, though she was smiling too. “Y’all are impossible. I’ve got fresh coffee. You want some?” She rose to pour it but kept one ear tuned to the conversation.
“Sure do,” Wayne said. “And for the record, I like Connie a lot. I think we may be working toward being a couple. I feel comfortable with her in a way I haven’t since the early part of my marriage, and y’all know how that turned out. I don’t want to move too fast and scare her off.”
Sheila set a cup in front of him and patted his shoulder. “Good. You both need somebody kind.”
Jay’s expression shifted. “You heard the news, Wayne? There’s some crazy mess goin’ on.”
“No. Cable and internet just got installed yesterday. What’s happening?”
“National news ain’t sayin’ much,” Jay said, “but my ham radio buddies are hearin’ reports from all over. Riots out west. Murders in Chicago. Big groups of immigrants from down south marchin’ through Mexico toward the border, and not one politician seems worried. They opened a bad door with that amnesty law a couple years back, and now folks are actin’ like nobody saw it comin’.”
Wayne frowned. “Wait. Back up. What riots and murders?”
Jay leaned back in his chair. “From what I’m hearin’, California’s economy started comin’ apart a few weeks ago. Then people used it as an excuse for what they’re callin’ ‘reallocation of resources.’ Stores robbed, ATMs busted open, whole neighborhoods on fire. It spread quick to L.A., then Portland and Seattle got ugly too. Chicago sounds bad. Some Earth Firsters hit corporate offices, sayin’ they were destroyin’ the earth. That brought in police and National Guard, and now there’s riotin’ there too. Beyond that, there’s talk of some new Asian flu heatin’ up overseas, maybe worse than the one back in ’68. And I’m hearin’ chatter about attacks on the electric grid out west. One buddy’s runnin’ his ham set on batteries because he’s been without power two days. Might be only a matter of time before trouble finds its way down here.”
“I had no idea,” Wayne said quietly. “I hope things don’t start getting bad in the South.”
“Hope is fine,” Jay said, “but it don’t stock a pantry. Once the summer heat settles in, folks’ll get short-tempered fast. Maybe I’m wrong. I pray I am. But Sheila and me, we’re ready. If things go sideways, I’m not just sittin’ here waitin’ on somebody else to save us.”
“Ready for what, Jay?”
Jay glanced toward Sheila before answering. “You’re family, so I’ll tell you plain. We’ve stocked about a year’s worth of food and water, got plenty of ammo, and I fortified the basement. Sheila and me consider ourselves preppers, at least to some degree.”
“Really? I never thought much about it. I’ve mostly ignored news and politics since I got out of the Army.”
Jay fixed him with a serious look. “You were in the Army, son. What if your unit was attacked or under siege and you had little food or ammo? Same principle here. You need to stock up, just in case. Pay cash when you can. Leave as little paper trail as possible. Government gets scared, it’ll roll right over folks and call it necessary.”
Wayne looked toward the radio room. “Tell me about ham radio. How are you staying in contact with people?”
Jay smiled, some of the tension easing from his face. “I’ve been a ham since high school. Got an Extra license, which gives me access to all the bands. I’ve got GMRS and two-meter repeaters set up here so I can reach locals. My tower also has a commercial radio antenna with a repeater to help the sheriff’s office with communications when they need it.”
Wayne frowned. “You’ll have to show me your setup sometime. I need to go for now. You’ve given me some uncomfortable things to think through. Thanks, Jay.”
“Don’t wait too long,” Jay said. “Once things start, people can go crazy quick.”
“See you later.”
Back home, Wayne could not shake what Jay had told him. He had spent years treating politics and government noise as something distant, something other people argued about. Ignoring it had been his way of staying sane. Now, for the first time in years, it felt less distant. It felt like something moving toward him.
He went into his office and opened his laptop. After checking his email, he searched the news and found confirmation from sources around the world: economic slowdown, riots in cities on every continent, unrest at the border, reports of power disruptions, and a new Asian flu spreading overseas. His military training made that last item stand out. Disease did not heed politics, borders, or permission.
After hours of disturbing headlines, Wayne began searching for preparedness information. He was surprised by how much practical guidance was available, including basic emergency-planning recommendations on government sites. At least that gave him somewhere to start. He created a spreadsheet and began copying information into categories: food, water, medical supplies, communications, fuel, security, and tools.
The hours slipped past. He was still reading when Connie called.
“How’s my knight in shining armor?” she asked.
Wayne smiled at the sound of her voice. “Doing better now. It’s been a long day. How are you holding up?”
“Worn out,” Connie said. “I’m going to bed soon, but I wanted to hear your voice first.”
“I’m glad you called,” Wayne said. “I like hearing yours too. I went to see Jay and Sheila today. Sheila decided we might be a couple.”
Connie laughed softly. “Did she now? And what did you say?”
Wayne hesitated, suddenly aware of how much the answer mattered. “I told them we might be working toward it. I hope that doesn’t upset you, Connie. Am I moving too fast?”
“No,” she said, and the warmth in her voice eased something in him. “I think you’re moving just fine.”
“I like you a lot, Connie.”
“I like you a lot too, Wayne.” She paused, and he could almost hear her smiling. “Want to see me tomorrow?”
“Yes,” he said. “Very much.” After they said good night, Wayne leaned back in his chair, still smiling into the quiet room. The world outside might be turning uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, he had something he wanted to protect besides land, memories, and old secrets.
Chapter 19
Nightmares jolted Wayne awake at two in the morning. “Damn,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. “What the hell was that?” Rover sat up beside the chair, ears pricked, scanning the dark room as if something had followed him out of the dream. Wayne reached down and rubbed her head. “Settle down, girl. It’s all right.”
He sat forward in the chair, heart still beating too hard, and tried to make sense of the dream. Aunt Maggie had been there, not as he remembered her at the end, but strong and clear-eyed, telling him to stock up for the future. Then the dream had twisted. Wayne had been standing in the kitchen with Connie and a handful of faceless people while every cabinet stood open and empty. No food. No water. No way to help the people looking to him for answers. The helplessness clung to him long after he opened his eyes. Maggie and Mike had been self-sufficient for a reason. The hidden rooms, the supplies, the tunnels—none of it had been eccentricity. It had been preparation. Exhaustion finally dragged him back under, and he slept uneasily in the chair.
When Wayne woke to the smell of coffee, he blinked at the morning light and tried to remember where he was. Connie walked into the room carrying two cups, her hair still damp from a shower and a small smile tugging at her mouth. “You gave me a key,” she said. “I decided to use it. You were sleeping hard enough in that chair I almost hated to wake you.”
Wayne accepted the cup and let his fingers brush hers a little longer than necessary. “You are a very nice surprise. I had an odd nightmare. My aunt was telling me to stock up. Then you and I were standing in an empty kitchen, starving together.”
Connie’s smile softened. She set her cup down and sat on the arm of his chair. “Stocking up. Prepping. Whatever name folks put on it, my family has done it as far back as I can remember. To us, it’s just common sense. When times are good, you put something back for the bad. When times are bad, you thank the Lord you did.”
“So I’m behind?” Wayne asked.
“A whole lot,” she said, but there was no judgment in it. “But you don’t have to figure it out alone. I’ll show you what I know, and we can learn the rest together.”
“Together sounds like a plan.” Wayne rose slowly, stretching the stiffness from his back, then stepped close and slipped his arms around her. “And damn, that coffee smells good.”
Connie laughed softly against his chest. “Wayne Dupre, are you hugging me or complimenting the coffee?”
“Both,” he said, and kissed her gently, not rushing it, not asking for more than she wanted to give. When she rested her forehead against his for a moment afterward, the nightmare finally loosened its grip.
After they shared breakfast on the front porch, Connie stood and looked out across the yard. “Why don’t you give me a tour of the property? I came out here once, a long time ago, with Aunt Sheila, but I don’t remember much besides the trees and the size of the place.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Wayne said. “But I need to be back here by eleven to meet the solar energy guy.”
“Solar, huh?” Connie asked. “What made you start thinking about that out here?”
“I was walking along the fence with Rover the other day and looked at the old barn hidden behind the trees. When I walked around it, I realized the roof faces the right way for panels. Given everything Jay told me and everything Aunt Maggie left behind, it felt less like coincidence and more like a warning I ought to listen to. I want a battery system that makes the farm less dependent on the grid.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Connie said. “And if you want a second bid, one of my cousins works for a solar company. Let’s check out the barn first.”
They walked past the garage and around the row of nut trees and berry shrubs that screened the barn from the road. Wayne slowed, studying the leaves and branches. “I have no idea what most of these are. Do you think your brother could help identify the trees and any other plants worth keeping?”
“Sure. I can call him and see if he can stop by later today.”
As they approached the barn, Connie looked over the corral and the outbuildings. The fencing seemed solid, maybe only in need of a good coat of paint. The buildings were in better shape than she expected, and with the economy sliding, she thought of another cousin who had recently been laid off from a house-painting job. “Hey,” she asked, “do you like house painting?”
Wayne looked at her suspiciously. “Not particularly. Why? Are you building me a honey-do list already?”
“What? How could you accuse me of such a thing?” she said with mock indignation, though her smile gave her away. “I just noticed the buildings could use paint, and I know a guy who could do it if you’re interested.”
“You sure do know a lot of guys,” Wayne said.
“Not like that,” Connie said, laughing. “He’s my cousin.”
“You seem to have a lot of cousins.” Wayne grinned, then grew more serious. “But thank you. Keep the good ideas coming. At this point, I’ll take all the free advice I can get if it helps me set this place up for the long term.”
“That’s good to hear.” Connie hooked her arm through his as they walked around the barn. The easy contact felt natural, and Wayne found himself slowing his pace to match hers. When they reached the large sliding door, he pulled it aside. “Wow,” Connie exclaimed, “this barn looks like it has hardly been used. How old is it?”
“I don’t know,” Wayne said. “I was looking through some family records and found that the whole place burned near the end of the War Between the States. The house and barn were rebuilt around 1880. I know the house is that old, and judging by some of the timber in here, the barn might be too. Aunt Maggie took care of major repairs as they came up. It’s almost like she knew I’d end up here someday. I figure she paid someone to prepare all this equipment for long-term storage. I haven’t even pulled the tarp off that old tractor yet.”
“Well,” Connie said, her eyes brightening, “let’s pull the tarp off that bad old boy and see what you’ve got.” They each took a corner and drew the canvas back slowly. As the machine emerged, Wayne stopped in surprise.
“That doesn’t look like a bad old boy to me,” he said. “I’m no expert, but that looks like a very nice bad old boy. I don’t suppose you have another cousin who knows tractors.”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Connie gave him a sideways look. “Want me to add him to the call list?”
“Yes, please.” Wayne pulled his notebook from his pocket and handed it to her with a pen. “This is where I’ve been trying to keep track of everything I need to work on.”
As she opened the notebook, she fanned the pages to find an empty one. The notebook opened to a page with the note, ‘check out coin prices’. “What’s this about coins?” Connie asked.
Wayne looked over at her and said, “Oh, I found a few old coins as I was going through things. I have no idea what they are worth, so I just want to get some idea of their value.”
Connie chuckled. “That’s one area where I don’t have a family connection, but I know there’s at least one coin shop in Alexandria. That might be a good starting point.”
“Actually,” Wayne said, “I thought about that last night and decided to check out a numismatist down in Lafayette. I was thinking I could take you on a date trip.”
“Did you say date trip?” Connie asked, her smile turning playful.
“That is a long drive,” she added. “We might have to stay overnight.”
Wayne cleared his throat. “Well, I can get us a room. I mean, two rooms. At a nice hotel.”
Connie stepped a little closer. “Let’s play it by ear,” she said softly. “But yes, Wayne. I’d love to go with you on a date trip.”
Wayne smiled, relieved and a little dazed. “Okay. Let’s finish the tour before I forget what we’re doing.” They checked the horse stalls at the end of the barn, and then Wayne closed the big door.
“Have you ever ridden horses, Wayne?”
“No, and I am surprised the barn is set up for horses. I don’t recall my aunt and uncle ever having horses.”
“Hmm. Country boy,” Connie said, studying him with open amusement. “Maybe we’ll have to go for a ride sometime.”
“I’m up for anything as long as it’s with you.”
“Oh, you are a smooth talker.” Connie turned, rose onto her toes, and kissed him with enough warmth to make his knees go week.
Wayne blinked when she pulled back. “Maybe,” he said, his voice a little rough, “we should continue the tour.”
They checked the greenhouse and gardens before ending up near the garage. “What’s in the third bay?” Connie asked.
“I got in there yesterday. Uncle Mike had a small gunsmithing shop set up inside. I haven’t had a chance to go through everything in the garage yet. In fact, I still haven’t found the key to the second floor.”
“Well, I can help with that,” Connie said, writing find garage key in Wayne’s notebook.
“You are a very good helper.” Wayne took her hand as they walked into the kitchen. They each filled a glass with cold water from the tap, and he took a long drink. “That sure tastes good.”
“It does,” Connie said. “That’s a bit of a surprise. Around here, the water usually tastes a little off.”
Wayne knelt and opened the cabinet under the sink. “Looks like there’s a reverse-osmosis system under here. That explains it.” He stood, shaking his head. “This property is full of surprises. Every time I turn around, I find something I don’t remember from my teenage years.”
Connie studied him over the rim of her glass. “How old are you, Wayne?”
He looked surprised. “Thirty-nine. I turn forty in July. Why? Is that going to be a problem?” He tilted his head. “And how old are you, if I may ask?”
Connie smiled slowly. “Oh, no. Not a problem. I like older men.” Then she lifted a brow. “And you know it’s not polite to ask a lady her age. But for you, I’ll make an exception. I’m thirty. Why? Is that going to be a problem?”
Wayne laughed. “No, not at all. I have a thing for younger women.” Connie punched him lightly in the arm and walked away smiling.
Wayne was about to continue the playful argument when the gate buzzer sounded. He went to the panel by the back door and pressed the intercom. “Yes, may I help you?”
“Jason from Solar Louisiana,” a voice answered.
Before Wayne could buzz him in, Connie nudged him aside and pressed the microphone button. “Hey, Jason. It’s Connie. How you doin’, cuz?”
After a brief pause, laughter crackled through the speaker. “Hey, cuz. I’m doing fine. You going to let me in, or are we visiting through a gate all morning?”
“Sure thing, cuz.” Connie pressed the gate release and smiled up at Wayne.
As the truck pulled up in front of the garage, Connie and Wayne walked out through the kitchen door. Jason stepped down from the cab and offered his hand. “Hi, Connie. Mr. Dupre, I’m Jason Bradshaw. Good to meet you.”
“Jason,” Connie said, “I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Wayne. You can call him Wayne. Mr. Dupre will make him feel too old.” She batted her eyes at Wayne, clearly enjoying herself.
I am doomed, Wayne thought, though the word boyfriend settled somewhere warm in his chest as he shook Jason’s hand.
“Well, Wayne,” Jason said, “tell me what you’re looking for.”
“I’m looking into a solar power system with batteries that can support the farm. I don’t want to be dependent on the grid. The barn on the other side of those trees looks like it might be perfect for panels. Let’s go take a look.”
The three of them walked toward the barn. Halfway there, Jason stopped and looked from east to west, then back at the roofline. “You’re right. The barn is oriented pretty close to east-west. We could mount panels on the south-facing roof, and if you have room inside, we can set up the battery bank there, as long as you can keep the space warm in winter.”
“That should work,” Wayne said. “I don’t have specific plans for the barn yet, so it’s pretty much a blank slate. Put the battery room wherever it makes the most sense.” He pulled open the large side door. “Let me show you inside.”
Jason whistled. “That is a nice-looking Case IH 2294. I haven’t seen one in this condition in a long time.” He admired the enclosed cab, front bucket, and the implements arranged in neat rows beside it.
“I think my aunt bought it after my uncle died in 1988,” Wayne said. “I had no idea she’d done that. It’s been sitting here for years, and I need someone to go over it and bring it back to life. I have a few chores around here where it would be a real help.”
Jason looked at Connie and smiled. “Did you tell him about Josh?”
“I mentioned I had a cousin who knows his way around farm equipment,” Connie said. “I’ll have Wayne call Josh and see what the tractor needs.”
“Well, Wayne,” Jason said, “I’ll do an energy audit, and depending on the size of the batteries and the number of panels you want, I can give you a quote. Delivery is usually twelve to sixteen weeks after the down payment. Some equipment comes from overseas, and everything is taking longer lately.”
“Four months?” Wayne asked. “I didn’t think it would take that long.”
Jason turned and studied the barn again. “I may have a solution. We just had an order canceled. The buyer lost his home to the bank, and the system was delivered to our shop before the cancellation came through. It may be oversized for what you need, but the panels will fit on this roof. The package includes an auxiliary wind generator, and if you want it, we could install next week.”
“That sounds a lot better,” Wayne said. “What are we talking for an all-in price?”
Jason scratched his jaw. “All in, I could get you set up for forty-eight thousand. That’s about thirty percent under list.”
Wayne looked at Connie, then back at Jason. The price was no small thing, but the dream, Jay’s warning, and Maggie’s hidden preparations pressed at him all at once. “Where do I sign?”
Jason smiled. “Let me run the calculations and confirm the numbers. I’ll get back to you in a few days.”
Fifteen minutes later, as Jason’s truck rolled through the gate, Connie looked at Wayne with open surprise. “Wow. You work fast. You didn’t even blink at the price tag.”
“Connie, I think we should talk.” Wayne tucked his hands into his pockets, suddenly more nervous about her reaction than about spending the money. “I’m not going to say money is no object, but Aunt Maggie left me enough of a nest egg that I can turn this farm into something sustainable and comfortable. There’s a lot of land here I still haven’t seen beyond the farmyard. I think I can settle down, become a gentleman farmer, and build a quiet life.” His expression softened. “If I can find the right woman to share it with.”
Connie stepped closer until there was almost no space between them. “I might know one,” she said. “She’s stubborn, drives a truck, has too many cousins, and she’s starting to think this place feels a lot like home when you’re standing in it.” She lifted her face to his, and this time the kiss was unhurried, tender, and full of promise.
Sandcastle76
Senior Member
Thanks..really enjoying this story
feralferret
Veteran Member
I read the original and like what you have done with the original story/concept. Please continue. I am anxious to read more.